These last few days haven't exactly been the best of days. I can name at least a hundred things I would have rather done than yesterday morning's adventure, and that's without trying too hard, and possibly without duplicates.

Cancer is an overloaded word. Given its place in our collective psyche, it's an ugly word, too. To our youth and health obsessed culture at large, the word means illness, badness, age and death to some degree. It also comes with some sort of judgement: lung cancer - you must have smoked; colon cancer - you must have eaten the wrong foods; prostate cancer - you must not have masterbated enough; skin cancer - you must have been outside without sunscreen on. There's an inherent implication that the cancer is the fault of its owner: if only they had done X, they wouldn't have cancer.

What a bunch of bullshit.

Step back and unload the word. Cancer is a group of cells which decided not to die. Nearly all cells in the body are specialized to do a small number of tasks, live for a while doing those tasks, then die. Sometimes, changes happen in those cells which enable the cells to continue living. During that extended lifetime, these not-dying-yet cells steal resources from the body to continue to live and multiply , often growing into a large mass or otherwise changing just enough to disrupt the rest of the cells around it.

That's it.

Take away all the fear, all the guilt, all the judgements, all the tragedy associated with the word cancer, and you have a bunch of rogue cells that aren't dying. Catch them early, and you have a good chance of getting rid of those rogue cells and continuing on with living.

It's that "continue on with living" part that intrigues me.

What part of having cancer means "stop living?" With all the fear associated with the word cancer, with that god damned overloaded term, everything stops until it's dealt with. Lives are put in order because you don't know what's going to happen next, and deal with the rogue cells. Find them, eliminate them without doing too much harm, and THEN start living again.

As if always wondering if it'll come back, if being ever vigilant, if being fearful for the rest of your days is living.

All of live is uncertain. Having a bunch of rogue cells doing their own thing doesn't mean a death sentence for the body, but it can be devastating for the mind. Always wondering... always checking... always obssessing... always dominating conversations because that's all you think about.

What a crappy way to live.

I choose not to live that way.

So, I'm going to play the cards dealt to me. I can't say I'm now imprevious to random outbursts of tears. I also can't say that I don't just want to have someone else take care of me instead of "soldiering on."

What I can say is that there are smiles to make, joys to experience, plants to plants, dogs to walk, sites to build, bills to pay, work to be done and a boy to snuggle. I can stop briefly, perhaps to cry, but after that, I'll play the next card.

Where am I in a Google search for kitt?

Well....

My drupal page is on page 8.
My twitter page is on page 13.
My Iconbuffet page (eh?) is on page 40.
And some Bharat gallery image is on page 44.

This site isn't in the first 60 pages, and they won't let me search beyond it. Eartha, David and K.I.T.T. all trump me at some point. I'm wondering yet if I care.

Tonight was the second HackerDojo group meeting. Tonight was less a progress meeting and more of status session. I felt that last week's meeting was more of an action meeting and this one was a follow up "reporting" meeting for those who missed last week's meeting.

I'm very happy I went, even if the flavor of the meeting wasn't the most desirable, because I met a large number of the people involved with the group via the HackerDojo website. I met Liza (yay! Another Liza!) and another David, as well as Dean Mao, whom I've been wanting to meet as he's a fellow "director," which means he's willing to up a larger amount of moolah than just members.

Because I have difficulty sitting through meetings if I'm not involved in them, I took notes in the meeting. My note taking style is very much a "write everything down, sort it later" method, but it works for me. I can't say I'm thrilled about my role as the "secretary" of the group, but I have to admit that it's more because the role of secretary tends to default to women, and I have a deep-seated aversion to default gender roles. I will also admit, however, that my desire for all things organized often overwhelms my aversion, which explains my willingness to take notes.

I posted my meeting summary. Gosh, I'm looking forward to this hacker community center opening! SO MUCH SO!

I hate being bored. No, that's not quite right. I loathe it. I DESPISE being bored with every fiber of my being. If I have only so many years of my life here, I don't want to be wasting a single moment doing nothing, or doing nothing being bored. The worst. The absolute worst.

As a result, I try to cram as much as I can into the free moments I have when doing potentially boring, but often tragically, necessary tasks. A good example of productive multitasking includes listening to audiobooks while walking the dogs. Not only do I manage to convert a reading deathmarch into a productive reading jog, but I also exercise AND reduce the dogs' energy levels from motorcycle ball of death antics level to appropriately sleeping levels. I also much prefer to train up to the City, opting to walk if I can when I arrive, than to drive up, so that I can work that hour on the train, instead of having to focus on driving. See, not only do I avoid boredom, but I also maximize downtime. Win-win!

As much as I try to cram, however, I don't often see other people cramming, or even taking advatage of small downtimes. I wish I could come up with 5 minute tasks to fill the "standing in line" gaps. My life will be complete when I come up with those.

Anyway, other people.

Today, as I was waiting for the train, heading up to the HackerDojo meeting tonight, I was surprised to see, across the platform at the concession stand, the guy standing behind the concession stand, cranking out sets of bicep curls. No one was at the concession stand, so he wasn't immediately tasked. I assumed his wares were set up so that he didn't need to be cleaning or adjusting inventory at the moment. No, he was using the most of his time and exercising while standing still.

Holy moly, a man after my own heart.

I'm so way looking forward to having a N.E.A.T. desk so that I, too, can exercise while working.

Since becoming the one armed bandit this morning, I'm not supposed to move around much today. Not moving, having a two inch wound in my shoulder, not being able to lift my left arm, and general annoyance with life in general all cause me to want comfort food.

And what's better than a chocolate shake for comfort food?

I debated where to go for a chocolate milk shake. The least expensive was, of course, to buy a pint of ice cream from the store and make my own. That would, unfortunately, also require being able to scoop said ice cream out of the container, which I'm not able to do at the moment. So, next option?

Cold Stone Cremery was, of course, an appealing option. Kris really likes Baskin Robbins, so I decided there was fine, and drove, one handed (no small feat with a manual transmission car), to the nearest Baskin Robbins.